I'm not exactly sure when my final bit of patience left me. I think it leaked out of me bit by bit. Crazy drivers, parents who don't watch their kids, lazy employees, being asked questions when I'm trying to focus on something else, broken dishes, malfunctioning appliances, car problems, self-serving managers, poorly prepared restaurant food -- the list can go on and on. If I had a visible meter, I could almost see the needle dipping into the danger zone at certain times.
My patience leak was a relatively constant drip until I introduced the tolerance portion of my brain to caffeine. That turbo coffee shot pressed my internal buttons like a kid playing Super Smash. When that lovely energizing chemical entered my bloodstream, my perception of life totally changed. Even inanimate objects gave me offense -- the stupid table that hit my knee cap, my cell phone that reminded me that I had an appointment, my eyeglasses that kept sliding down my nose.
Woe be to the person that said the wrong thing to me when I was at the height of my artificially induced energy. Every comment was taken as a slight or insult. Don't give me any constructive criticism as that would unleash a large muscular green monster. Veins would pop out of my forehead, my eyeballs would shoot fire and my lips would curve into something from Mr. Sardonicus. I really couldn't help myself. It's almost like I was having an out-of-body experience. Untamed, unfiltered words would fly from my mouth spewing burning acid on my victims. Unfortunately, my family, my boss, and even strangers have seen this alter ego -- my Mr. Hyde.
Fortunately, I didn't let it get to the point where Hyde had incited road rage, loss of a job or estrangement from my family. All I needed was for one of my victims to remind me that I was being a perfect monster. Immediately, a switch flipped and I was back to my normally semi-patient self. I then would go through the guilt phase of my recuperation where I had to apologize to everyone for being unbearably grouchy -- even if the original flying-off-the-handle event may have been justified in some form.
It got to the point where my family would not allow me to speak when in the fast food drive through -- we all know that the folks that work in these places are trained to irritate. I'd been given instructions to keep my face in a passive mask when I was cut off on the roadway or when someone flipped me off because I was driving too slow. I began to find these growing limitations on my freedom to express my irritation with the entire world somewhat annoying.
It was apparent that my ability to handle the caffeine -- and daily nuisances -- took a sharp turn south when I turned 40. I'm sure you've all heard that things start to fall apart at that age; and I was no exception. I had to make a choice; continue the slow burn of daily impatience that could turn into volcanic episodes at any time, or do something about it. So I decided five years ago to quit caffeine...and have been off the stuff for two months now.
I figured that once I kicked my Diet Coke habit, I'd turn into Snow White and birds would alight on my fingers and flowers would grow in my hair. Nope, didn't happen. Don't get me wrong. It's definitely better -- at least I think so. But I still have a long way to go to obtain my goal of saintly patience.
I'm not worried, though. I know the problem isn't me necessarily. It's my fluctuating hormones. After that, I've got old age to blame.
